


On a Field of Gray

by misura



Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-10
Updated: 2010-08-10
Packaged: 2017-10-11 00:57:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/106486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>All princes of Amber have been raised to ambition - to climb the tallest tree in the forest, or at least one that's taller than the one their older brother climbed.</i> (Gérard on Julian and Corwin)</p>
            </blockquote>





	On a Field of Gray

There is much, Gérard thinks, that Julian has forgotten about Corwin - from anyone else, he'd suspect a pretense, a show of having forgotten while, in fact, the memories have remained crystal-clear, but Julian has never been one for subtlety, unless a game of chess is involved.

Which, in the case of Corwin, it is, naturally. Even so.

 

In the Forest of Arden stands a tree. All trees in that area of the Forest are tall and old, an army of forest-giants as impressive to adults as to children, but this one tree is special. It's not taller than the other trees, nor does it look particularly older.

A man could walk through the Forest for months without noticing anything special about that tree, unless he were to take a closer look at it. A single letter has been carved out in the tree's wood at some point, in clumsy, inelegant handwriting.

(Gérard is willing to admit that he'd likely have fared no better. Still, somehow, his mind seems to insist on attaching significance to the way the initial looks, as if its writer were too young to form it properly.)

To a teenager of the right age, even a forest-giant may merely look like something to climb. A challenge, to some degree. All princes of Amber have been raised to ambition - to climb the tallest tree in the Forest, or at least one that's taller than the one their older brother climbed.

Only Julian has contented himself with climbing the exact same tree.

Somewhere, presumably, there's a tree that Eric climbed when he was younger and willing to settle for simpler ways to best Corwin, ways that did not involve sharp objects that Gérard fears are going to cost someone his life one of these days, and another someone his life's goal. (He is not sure who would get the worse part in that exchange, although he suspects it may be the survivor.)

Eric's tree is lost in the Forest though, indistinguishable from the other trees. Corwin's would have been, too - and perhaps that's as it should have been - except that Julian has marked it.

There's a certain irony in that, Gérard supposes. If anyone could be said to own the Forest of Arden nowadays, it would be Julian - and yet that one tree will belong to Corwin for as long as it stands, because Julian has claimed it for him.

He wonders if Corwin is even aware of its existence.

 

Corwin may remember the chess-set, or not. The chances of his remembering the chess-set are better than those of his remembering the tree, but in the greater scheme of things, neither really signify.

Gérard would like to think Corwin has eyes for more than the greater scheme of things or his rivalry with Eric, but there are days when he fears his wishful thinking is just that.

The game of chess goes in and out of fashion in Amber - Shadow has produced many games, and the nature of chess does not appeal to everyone. There is little luck involved in chess, the only gambles one takes being the gamble on whether or not one's opponent will be able to predict one's next move.

Chess is a game of logic and reason, of careful planning and of carefully adapting one's planning as the situation demands it. Playing chess requires a clear, cool head - or an opponent more or less as druk as one is oneself. (Gérard remembers the only game of chess he's ever seen Random play, Corwin as drunk as he was, sacrificing pieces as if the game was a contest to see who would be able to lose his army the fastest - Gérard remembers the game, but not its outcome.)

It's a game that suits Julian well, and Corwin poorly, on most days.

When Corwin presents Julian with a gorgeously handmade chess-set, Gérard knows it's not done with the intention of playing chess. At best, it's a gift that's thoughtful and thoughtless at the same time - there is no shortage of chess-players in Amber, yet nobody would count Corwin among them. At worst, although Gérard doesn't think Julian can see the gift in that light, it's a rejection, Corwin's way of telling Julian to leave him alone once and for all.

Gérard thinks the first option is the most likely, yet given that this is Corwin, it's hard to be sure.

He watches as Corwin does not change at all, while Julian throws himself at chess, as determinedly as he will one day pursue his idea of the perfect horse, the only animal suitable to carry him. Julian is younger now, though, more and less idealistic.

The first time Julian challenges Corwin to a match, Corwin merely laughs and shakes his head, claiming the battle would be too inequal, given Julian's reputation. It's an unusual reply, an almost uncharacteristic backing off.

Corwin has never been known for his prudence.

Gérard plays Julian a few times and finds him a strong opponent - too strong, perhaps. Julian does not ask him for games again, perhaps sensing that Gérard is reluctant to engage in a contest he feels he is unlikely to win.

No prince of Amber enjoys losing, and in the end, Gérard still is as much of a prince of Amber as Corwin.

Still, no prince of Amber can turn down a challenge once, and keep turning it down - eventually, Julian gets his match with Corwin, and an outcome only Gérard might have predicted, had he given the matter more thought.

Some princes of Amber may handle defeat gracefully, but not Julian, not that day, and that, in a sense, Gérard thinks is worse than a lost game of chess. Corwin merely laughing and pouring Julian a glass of wine to replace the one Julian has thrown in his face is only salt in the wound; it adds to the sting of defeat, yet does little to cleanse the wound or help in the healing.

Julian will never be able to be like Corwin. Surpassing Corwin has not, Gérard thinks, ever been Julian's goal - but becoming Corwin's equal was, and when one's equal throws a glass of wine in one's face, it's not a laughing matter. (Among friends it might be a forgivable offense, only Corwin and Julian have never been close enough to truly become friends; even as Corwin is the model Julian has shaped his ambitions on, to Corwin, Julian is merely a relative - one of too many brothers to be considered such.)

After that game of chess, Julian starts to spend more time with Eric - or perhaps it's Eric who's starting to spend more time with Julian, seeing, Gérard fears, less a potential friend and ally, and more someone who may, if properly cultivated, do Eric's bidding.

 

Corwin does not so much cultivate friends as that he makes enemies and makes allies out of his enemy's enemies. It's a rather roundabout way of going about things, yet it seems to work often enough to never let the balance of power tip entirely in Eric's favor.

It takes Corwin disappearing for that to happen, and even then it only happens gradually, slowly.

Rumors implicate Eric, yet Gérard considers Julian a far more likely candidate - which is to say: not a very likely one, but still more likely than Eric to be responsible for what is most likely Corwin's death. Murder is a hard crime to wash off one's hands - and Eric is ambitious. Julian is the one with very little to lose, and the one with a grudge.

Gérard is somewhat disturbed by the way his imagination draws a picture for him: a crime of passion, followed by a well-thought-out cover-up. It's not that hard to get rid of an unwanted body in Shadow; in the end, a dead prince of Amber is no different from any other corpse.

 

The one time Gérard sees Eric lose his temper is when he asks Gérard if he thinks Eric has killed Corwin - it's a rather direct question, too much so, perhaps, but Gérard knows that if Eric had asked him if Gérard holds him responsible, then Gérard could either have lied or said 'yes', and Gérard has made it his habit to lie as little as possible.

Later that same week, Julian asks him the same question, and Gérard gives him the same answer.

"There is no proof."

For Eric, the answer was not enough, but Julian, somehow, seems content with it, nodding slowly and looking pensive and then changing the subject.

They never talk about Corwin again, after that, until his return, and by that time, Gérard thinks it's rather too late for anything to be said on the subject - too much time has passed, too much has changed.

And if there is much that Julian has forgotten about Corwin, then there is even more that Corwin has never known or understood about Julian.


End file.
